Sick Bed (Variation 05)
by Lucifer Rosemaunt
Summary: <html><head></head>Short ficlet variations on a theme: the bedroom/bed. Erik's never been one to know his own limitations. ErikRaoul slash. Modern!AU, domestic fluff, sick!fic</html>


Title: Sick Bed (Variation 05)  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Summary: Short ficlet variations on a theme: the bedroom/bed. Erik's never been one to know his own limitations.  
><span>Fandom<span>: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Warning(s)<span>: domestic!AU, modern!AU, fluff, established relationship  
>Word Count: 1,829<br>Rating: K

o.o.o.o

Raoul shut the front door and tossed his keys towards the side table, distracted enough that he did not care it hit the lacquered wood and slid off. He kicked off his shoes as he yelled.

"Erik? Are you home?"

There was no response. The house seemed completely empty, but this was the only place he could think to start looking since the older man was not answering anyone's phone calls. Erik had assured him that he would take a nap before going to the gallery opening since he had been running a slight temperature that morning. The continued silence only made him worry more.

Raoul had been going through the tedious process of signing some necessary forms in his office when Mrs. Giry from the gallery called him: first, to tell him that everything was going according to plan and second, to say that Erik had yet to show up. He might have found it amusing just how surprised his secretary had looked as he nearly bowled her over in his rush to leave, but his first concern had been to make sure that Erik was alive and well. Despite how capable Erik's staff was, few things could keep that man from a gallery opening. None of them were good and Raoul's mind went through the gamut of worst case scenarios on the drive home, especially when he kept getting directed to Erik's voicemail.

Nothing looked out of place as he jogged through the kitchen and living room. The only indication that he should not be searching every alley and street instead of their home was that Erik's shoes were still by the door. That did not mean an intruder could not have found an open window and incapacitated him in a moment of inattentiveness.

"Erik?" he called again.

He skid to a halt when he reached their bedroom. It, too, was empty save for their unmade bed and the suit jacket and belt laid out upon it.

"Erik?" he said, hoping against hope that said man would suddenly materialize. It was silly but Raoul was desperate enough to check under the bed where he was surprised to find Erik's cellphone. It was on silent with about fifteen missed calls and texts. He had barely scrolled through the list when a soft groan had him rushing to their bathroom.

The door swung open to reveal Erik. His eyes were squeezed shut as he lay slumped on the tiled floor. There was no pool of blood, and he did not appear injured. He simply looked miserable. His long-sleeved dress shirt clung to his skin; the back of it was rucked up where he leaned against the bath tub. One arm was draped over the lip, keeping him relatively upright. His black trousers were rumpled and the left leg had somehow gotten caught above his calf. Damp bangs laid across his mask limply and his head lolled to one side.

Raoul did a quick check of the toilet but there was no evidence that the older man had gotten violently ill. He sighed in relief as he came to the conclusion that Erik probably at some point just did not have enough energy to keep standing. Crouching beside him, he gently pushed his bangs back to place the back of his hand against his cheek, noting that he was considerably warmer now than compared to this morning.

When his touch did not garner a reaction, he cupped his cheek and whispered, "Erik."

The older man's eyes fluttered more from Raoul deciding to remove his mask and place it in the bathtub to save it from being stepped upon than from hearing his name.

"Love," he tried again and this time, Erik's head swung over in an attempt to open his eyes. Raoul stopped him from letting his head fall backwards and hit the ledge. Even his nape was damp from sweating. Still, the older man shivered.

"Come on, love." Raoul slipped his arms beneath Erik's, tugging his shirt back down before struggling to lift him. "The floor is cold." He only succeeded in getting him draped over one shoulder before they both nearly toppled over. They would have fallen if Erik had not finally assisted and steadied himself.

"Rao-"

"It's me." He shrugged the older man's arm up more securely and somehow between Erik's stumbling and Raoul's sheer force of will, they made it across the room. The last few steps were actually of them tripping over each other and Erik falling face first onto the bed and Raoul just barely missing falling onto the floor.

"The gallery," Erik mumbled and Raoul tried not to smile when he reached out an arm in a poor attempt to grab his jacket. The article of clothing was still half the bed away. Erik flexed his fingers a couple of seconds before laying both head and arm down on the bed in defeat.

"It will open without you," Raoul assured him and decided the best course of action would be to start with undressing him to make sure he was comfortable.

Erik made a sound of discontent and something that sounded like, "No, it won't." It was muffled because he had not bothered to turn his face, and he ended up speaking directly into the bed.

Raoul started pulling off his trousers and socks, Erik only making it more difficult by weakly trying to kick him away. He got a foot to his shoulder and his face for all his effort but came out relatively unscathed. He was fairly certain the older man was not even fully conscious. Getting his shirt off was even more of a trial though only because getting him to turn over in order to reach the buttons was near impossible. It was a mixture of coaxing words and manhandling him to roll and turn as necessary before Raoul not only managed to get him down to his underwear and undershirt but also far enough up on the bed so that his legs were no longer hanging off the edge. He may have been laying diagonally across it and on most of the blankets, but Raoul considered it a victory.

Grabbing what blankets were free, Raoul tucked him in as tightly as possible. Not expecting a response, he said, "You sleep and I'll make sure everything happens exactly how you would want it to."

Erik surprised him by shaking his head. "No," he moaned.

That stopped him halfway from unlocking his cellphone. "No?"

Erik was silent for a long moment and Raoul was sure he had misheard him. It could very well have just been another groan. He took several steps towards the door, already making a mental list of all the things he would need to do: check to see if they had flu medicine left over; make phone calls to the gallery because Erik would be disappointed and angry if neither of them were present as was tradition; and change out of his work clothes because the suit he was wearing now was beyond wrinkled and it would not do. Erik would be embarrassed to know if he appeared in their gallery dressed so poorly. He tugged at his tie as he walked while texting Mrs. Giry. He needed a status report and wanted to tell her he would be over as soon as he could to show his face and take promotional photos for at least a couple of minutes.

"Stay." Erik's voice stopped him once more, perhaps not the words itself but for the plea in his tone.

Raoul looked back at the lump on the bed. It was not a difficult to know what his next steps would be. He tossed the rest of his clothes on the floor – making a mental note to pick them up before Erik got better and was able to be mad at him. He rushed to the kitchen, tore through their cabinets, and finished a hurried text before returning to Erik's side with a tray of everything he could grab and thought he might need. Placing the tray on the nightstand, he did wonder how the salt shaker had ended up between the carton of orange juice and a hand towel.

He tugged the blanket far enough down to reveal Erik's face. "Erik." He carded his fingers through his damp hair, and it took a moment but Erik opened his eyes.

Upon seeing him, he smiled. His eyes closed and his lips barely quirked upwards, but it was a smile, one not mischievous or sarcastic, one simply filled with joy and open disbelief that Raoul was still there. "Thought you left," he muttered as he reached up to twine their fingers together for a moment before his arm got tired and fell back to the bed.

"No." Raoul smiled back at him and stroked his fingers across his forehead. "I couldn't leave you. I just needed to get some things, needed to make sure everything you worked so very hard for is fine." He had added the last bit hoping to ease his mind, but all Erik did was tilt his head up in a silent request for him to keep moving his hand. Raoul was sad to disappoint him, but he needed both his hands to get the medicine.

"I'm going to need you to sit up a bit please." Raoul slid a knee beneath Erik's shoulders when he struggled to do as he asked, complacent until he saw the spoon with its viscous cherry liquid. Then, he frowned, making a face.

"Say ah." Raoul could see him consider refusing to open his mouth, but he eventually did as asked, swallowing all of the medicine.

"Good. Good," he praised him, brushing his hair back again and Erik leaned into the touch. It was an awkward reach, but he managed to grab the glass of water behind him to drown out the taste and keep him hydrated. "I know." He held the glass, carefully tilting it. "I don't know why we get that flavor either."

When Erik signaled he was done drinking, Raoul eventually lowered him back onto the bed and placed the half-finished glass back onto the tray. He planned to sneak out into the living room in order to at least keep tabs on the gallery opening – because Erik would eventually want to know all the details – and grab himself some dinner before returning to keep Erik company.

A warm hand upon his own and two broken words _"don't leave"_ changed his plans once more. He crawled into bed behind Erik, making sure the blankets were secure around them both. He shifted them until Erik's back was flush to his chest, ignoring the fact that he was already feeling warm since Erik was radiating heat. Still, Raoul only held him closer and waited until the older man found a comfortable position.

Raoul pressed his lips to the nape of his neck and promised, "I won't leave."

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)! Also, random side note: just restarted school again and that's a slap in the face. Hello late night editing (I apologize for any mistakes). D: I am too old for this crap.  
>Fic Review: Why did this get so long?! Erik really didn't expect Raoul to have stayed with him and that's kind of heartbreaking (because he doesn't actually get sick very often and he's never had anyone take care of him like that). Also, in my head, Erik actually doesn't mind being the little spoon and Raoul definitely likes being able to hold Erik and cuddle against him.<p> 


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